


The Storm Before The Calm

by fleetinginfinities



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cuddly Derek, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-14 21:48:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleetinginfinities/pseuds/fleetinginfinities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has always been afraid of storms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Storm Before The Calm

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first piece of work I'm posting on here and I'm very excited about it! I've been wanting to join this site for quite awhile now. :)
> 
> This is the product of having a massive load of feels mixed with sleep deprivation from being awake at four AM because of severe thunderstorms. The title is also a line in a John Mayer song, and I don't know how that even came to me, but it did, so there's that. :P

            There aren't many things that Derek Hale would ever admit to loving, but there was no denying the fact that he has always loved storms. He loves the way he can tell when they're coming. His heightened senses allow him to hear the thunder when it's still hours away, he can smell the rain in the air before it even starts to pour. And, aside from that, he can feel it in his bones.

            When a storm approaches during a time that he's not in wolf form, he usually stands out on his porch and lets the wind whip through his hair, breathing in the crisp air and listening to the leaves rustling and swaying. Then, when the storm nears and the first streaks of lightning flash in the distance, he retreats inside and watched out the window. Storms had always been calming to him, but more so in the past few years. After his family died, some nights the only way he ever got some rest was by listening to the sound of rain against his damaged and leaky roof.

            Fire. What killed his family. What burned them - along with his old life - into non-existence. Fire was bad. Frightening. Painful.

            Rain. Water. The opposite of fire. The exact element that could demolish fire. Rain was good. Soothing. Welcomed.

            A good storm was always welcomed, except it was rather inconvenient that Derek was making his nightly rounds, scouring the borders of town to make sure the Alpha Pack was still keeping their distance when one hit almost unexpectedly.

            He'd known a storm was approaching, of course, but he had underestimated how _fast._ When he left his house to begin his patrol, he'd thought he surely had at least a half an hour. So when fifteen minutes later he felt the first few droplets hit his head, he was surprised and slightly annoyed.

            The light rain quickly became a torrential downpour, and then thunder and lightning were hitting so close he heard a tree fall down in the woods - most likely from being struck.

            He knew he couldn't get much done in such weather, but he also knew that with how quickly the storm was moving, running back home would be pointless because it could be over before he got there.

            So the question was, where was he to go to wait it out?

            After running the options through his head, he headed for the closest familiar house.

 

 

~

           

 

            Stiles has never liked storms. Never. Not when he was a child and the thunder and lightning and rain pelting at his window kept him awake all night.

            Not the night his mother died and Beacon Hills coincidently saw one of the most severe storms it had in years.

            Not then. Definitely not now.

            A streak of lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating his room with white light and making the night sky light up for one split moment. In his head, he counted the seconds until the thunder roared in the distance. He only got to three. The storm was right on top of Beacon Hills.

            To block the noise out and maybe get some peace, he threw his pillow over his head and pulled his blankets up higher, squeezing his eyes shut and hoping that sleep would find him, but to no avail. The only thing he was feeling after five minutes was suffocated and hot, so he removed the pillow and sat up to readjust it behind his head.

            Just as he was doing so, another streak of lightning lit the room and Stiles nearly had a heart attack when he saw a black figure hovering in the corner by the window. He yelped, reaching his arm out and turning the lights on so fast that the intruder had to shield his eyes.

            "Damn it, Stiles!"

            The lights flickered before the room went dark again, and he assumed that the power went out. Stiles' heart rate seemed to both slow down and speed up at the same time, even though he wasn't sure how that was possible. He was just relieved that he recognized that voice. You know, dealing with one of his werewolf friends sneaking into his room in the middle of the night was one thing. He could handle that, because _his life_.

 Dealing with a robber or a criminal, well, that would have been a whole different story. He probably actually _would_ have had a heart attack, had that been the case. He squinted through the darkness. " _Derek_?"

            Thunder rumbled outside, drowning out whatever the older boy said.

            "What the hell are you _doing_ here?"

            There was a streak of lightning, and Stiles really saw him. He was soaked,

actually dripping with water, right onto his carpet! "Dude, you're wet!"

            "I just ran four miles in the pouring rain, what do you expect?" Derek snapped.

            " _Why_?"

            He sighed in exasperation, like the _last_ thing he wanted to do was explain to Stiles why he was out and why he ended up in his freaking bedroom, as if he didn't deserve an explanation. Stupid entitled werewolves.

            Nevertheless, he _did_ explain. "Every night I run the perimeter of Beacon Hills to make sure that no unwanted visitors are moving into the territory. I have a pack to watch over. I'm responsible for their safety."

            "Okay, so that's what you were doing," Stiles relented. "But why are you here?"

            Derek shifted. "This was the closest place to get to from where I was. I was hoping that you would be asleep."

            Stiles' eyes were adjusting to the darkness, and he could make out the expression on Derek's face. He looked almost embarrassed. Well, as close to embarrassed as a broody werewolf could be.

            "Oh, okay."

            Derek raised an eyebrow. "Okay?"

            "Well, I'm not going to make you go back out there in-" Stiles gestured toward the window, "-that mess. You can stay here until the storm passes."

            "I was planning on it," Derek said bluntly. "That's why I came here."

            Stiles gaped at him. He was offering a werewolf - who was so _not_ invited over in the first place - to stay in his bedroom until the storm passed out of the kindness of his heart, and Derek was going to act all arrogant and douchey on him? God. _Werewolves._

            "Well, since your so ready to make yourself at home, why don't you take off your sopping wet clothes and find something dry to put on, you're going to leave an _actual puddle_ on my carpet," Stiles ordered, his tone indignant. And, okay, so maybe commanding Derek to basically strip wasn't the _best_ way to get the point across that he felt his hospitality was being taken advantage of, but the guy really was a soaking wet mess.

            Derek narrowed his eyes, examining what was probably already a wet spot on the carpet before reaching his arms across his body and peeling off his shirt. Right there. With Stiles staring and trying to keep his jaw from dropping. Holy-freaking-crap, his abs were totally unreal. And Stiles so wasn't checking him out. Nope, not at all.

            Derek slung the black tee shirt over Stiles' computer chair and threw his hands up. "There, are you happy now?"

            Stiles had no idea how to answer that question because it really felt like a trick question, and damn he was still in awe over Derek's freaking body, like he knew he was muscular, but that leather jacket sure did hide a _lot_.

            "Take a picture, it will last longer," Derek said blatantly.

            "Uh-" Stiles stammered. "Did you just try to make a joke? Is this even real life?"

            Derek rolled his eyes and then _unbuttoned his jeans and started shrugging out of them._ And nope, nope, nope. Forget that. Stiles was taking a train to Nopesville because this was _definitely_ not real life. Derek-freaking-Hale was taking off his pants. In Stiles' bed room. While Stiles lay in bed. _And_ he was a briefs guy, as Stiles so quickly found out.

            He saw Stiles' expression and scowled. "What? My jeans are even heavier when they're drenched than the tee-shirt. This storm obviously isn't going to be letting up as soon as I thought, so I might as well let my clothes dry while I sit here. None of your clothes fit, anyway."

            Stiles put his hands up in defense. "I didn't say anything."

            "You were thinking loud enough for the both of us to hear."

            Stiles snorted. "That's not even a thing, you can't _hear_ me think." Wait, _can_ he? Is that an alpha thing? No, definitely not, or he probably would have ripped Stiles' throat out a long time ago.

            "You should go to sleep, Stiles."

            "Now you're telling me what to do?"

            "I was just suggesting it," he clarified. "That's what you would be doing if I didn't show up."

            "Unlikely," Stiles muttered, and although it was under his breath, and barely audible, he had momentarily forgotten that his _guest of honor_ had super-hearing abilities and had _definitely_ caught that.

            "What do you mean 'unlikely?'" Derek asked, even though it sounded more like a demand than a question.

            "Nothing," Stiles said immediately - too quickly.

            Derek just gave him _that look_ like 'Well? Spit it out.'

            "I just don't like storms, so that's why I wasn't already asleep."

            Derek raised his eyebrows. "Oh."

            "Yeah," he replied, fluffing his pillow and laying back down. He decided he should at least try to get rest, even if there was a big unwanted werewolf hovering in the corner of his room.

            Stranger things have happened.

            The storm outside was raging on with no signs of letting up anytime soon, and after fifteen minutes of tossing and turning and trying so hard not to open his eyes and look at Derek who he was _very_ aware of even without seeing him, he knew sleep was probably useless. Instead, he decided to just lay still and hope Derek _thought_ he was asleep so he didn't feel the need to engage in any sort of awkward conversation.

            Not that Derek would. The guy was pretty socially inept. He didn't feel the need to fill awkward silences with random babbling, unlike Stiles.

            _"Stiles,"_ Derek said, and it sounded almost like a groan. "Your heart beat is annoyingly loud right now."

            "S-sorry?" he said. "I can't really control that."

            "You're freaking out," he continued. "What are you so nervous about?"

            "I-Nothing!" Stiles exclaimed just as the loudest boom of thunder shook the house, causing him to jump.

            "Stiles, are you _scared_ of storms?" Derek asked, deadpan.

            "No."

            Derek stood up and walked over to the side of the bed, hovering directly over Stiles who was laying on his back and looking anywhere but at Derek. He felt a hot hand on his chest, and before he could ask what the _actual hell_ Derek was doing, the werewolf spoke again.

            "Your heart beat is always abnormally fast, but -"

            "Only when I'm around you-Werewolves. Only when I'm around Werewolves. For natural reasons, obviously," Stiles said defensively.

            "-but tonight it's going crazy," Derek concluded. "You're afraid of thunderstorms, aren't you?"

            "I already told you I don't like them," Stiles said lowly, rolling over onto his side and away from Derek's penetrating gaze.

            "That's not the same as being scared. I didn't know."

            Stiles couldn't help but make a sarcastic remark. "What? Like I was supposed to tell you?"

            "I could have-" Derek started, but then cut himself off. "Oh, forget it."

            Stiles was about to ask what he was going to say, but then he felt his bed dip with a new weight and before he even had time to react, Derek was wrapping his arm around Stiles' torso and pulling his back into his chest. _Oh._

            "W-what the hell?" Stiles stammered, completely flustered. He felt the blood rushing to his face. If his heart rate had been crazy before, it was probably off-the-charts now. "Whatareyou-"

            "Shut up, Stiles," Derek demanded low and serious. Hell, he'd almost _growled_ it. "I'm calming you down. You're not going to get any sleep feeling like that, and I'm not going to get any peace and quiet hearing your heart beat out of your chest."

            "This is not calming me down!" Stiles informed him, trying to squirm out of his grasp.

            "Because you need to stop moving before this can work," Derek said, and Stiles could actually feel the warmth of his breath on the back of his neck.

Stiles quit fidgeting and laid still, wondering what on earth Derek was going to do to him, and _Oh God_ that sounded way more dirty than he intended. Out of all the times he imagined something like this happening, he never imagined it like this. Being manhandled into spooning position - particularly the _little_ spoon - and waiting for Derek to do whatever it was he was planning on doing to 'calm him down.' No, in his head, things were _much_ sexier and way less creepy.

            Not that he imagined sexy times with Derek often, or anything. He totally didn't. But he would be lying if he said he _never_ had, because Jesus, just _look_ at the guy.

            There was another crash of thunder, and all of a sudden, the hand that was gripping Stiles' hip and holding him in place snaked up his torso, resting right where his heart was hammering against his chest. "Derek what are you-"

            At first, Stiles felt nothing but a dull tingling feeling where Derek's hand was - and he wasn't even sure if that had anything to do with what Derek was doing. Then, slowly, he felt all of the tension and anxiety from the storm and thinking about his mom disappearing, almost as if it were being lifted out of him. As the seconds passed, he was growing increasingly calmer. He wasn't scared anymore.

            "Are you _taking_ my bad emotions away?" Stiles asked in complete disbelief.

            "Just your fear."

            "You can _do_ that?"

            "Do you remember how Isaac was able to take that puppy's pain away at Deaton's?"

            Stiles nodded. "Yeah."

            Derek released his hand from Stiles' chest, and moved it back to his hip, but this time the touch was more hesitant. It wasn't to hold him in place, it was something completely different and Stiles really didn't know what to think, but he wasn't going to complain about it.

            "Well, it works on any mammals. Humans included. As an alpha, I can do more than just that. It works better on members of the Pack, though. I could make them feel any emotion I wanted to. Especially when they're in wolf form. It's how alphas get members to submit to them sometimes. It's pure _power."_

Stiles gulped. "Okay, three things. One, that's pretty scary, two, you are _so_ not allowed to hi-jack anyone's emotions without their permission from now on, and three are you saying that I'm...Pack?"

            "Don't be an idiot," Derek answered. "I know how serious it is and I'm not going to take advantage of any members of my pack like that. It's just good for situations, well, like this one for instance."

            "You didn't answer the third question," Stiles pressed. That was the one he cared about, after all. Of course he did know that changing someone's emotions was wrong, very wrong, but hey, it wouldn't hurt to make Scott a _little_ more focused sometimes, or Erica a _little_ less bitchy, right?

            Derek was silent for awhile, as if he were mulling it over, and he tapped his index finger against Stiles' hip bone, and Stiles had been trying _really_ hard to forget about his hand placement for a minute there, but _Jesus Christ_. 

            "Yes," Derek said.

            "Yes?"

            "Yes...you're Pack."

            "I'm Pack?" Stiles repeated excitedly. "Yes! I knew you guys always kept me around for a reason when I tagged along with Scott! I knew I was more than just Mr. Research Guy."

            Derek sighed heavily, and Stiles was still _very_ aware of how close his mouth was to his neck.

            "Will you shut up and go to sleep now?"

            "Y-yeah, okay, I can do that." He wasn't _actually_ sure if he could do that, though.

            "Your heart is still beating really fast," Derek commented, and even though Stiles was still aware of the wind whistling outside and the rain pelting against the house, he wasn't bothered by it.

            "It's not because of the storm, though," he said honestly, and even _he_ heard his voice tremble at the confession. But really, who could blame him? He had an almost-naked inhumanly attractive person in his bed basically spooning him. _Any_ teenager's heart rate would spike at that.

            Derek said nothing, but Stiles could _feel_ his eyes burning into him. He didn't realize he was holding his breath until Derek's hand, still light on his hip, slithered down around his waist and squeezed tightly, and yep, wow, now they were _actually_ spooning and Stiles didn't totally melt into Derek's chest or anything.

            Stiles was pretty sure that this was one of those things they would never speak of again, like the time they were trapped in the pool when they actually became unspoken friends and started to trust each other. Or the time, more recently, after Scott got his tattoo and was passed out from the pain and they spent the time talking and even laughing like they enjoyed each other's company.

            But when Derek started drawing circles absently on Stiles' stomach with his thumb, Stiles suddenly wasn't so sure, but he wasn't about to start babbling and ruin the moment, so he just focused on the feeling - because he definitely wasn't opposed to free cuddling, ever - and the smell of Derek, rain water and pine and musk, which was oddly a lot nicer than it sounded.

            The storm slowed down and passed completely eventually, and even though they were both still awake when it did, Derek didn't leave, and Stiles didn't ask why.


End file.
